


Where Do You Draw The Line

by friendlyrejection



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Gen, Non-con situation, Original Characters - Freeform, Underage Drinking, i guess, nothing actually happens but it definately looks like it will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyrejection/pseuds/friendlyrejection
Summary: But it was the common assumption that she ran with raiders for that time. Some of the things she did were hauntingly familiar.------A part of her didn't want to acknowledge what was actually happening; but it was textbook. Another part of her asked if it was really worth it.





	1. Predator

Things had started to slow down after the initial excitement of starting the E.C.L.P.S. lab. All the years and schmoozing and bribes had finally paid off, everything falling into place just the way she planned. The excitement was so palpable in that first week; it clung to the corners of her mouth and made everyone’s hair stand with static. But now came the real work. The walk before the run. It was agonizing. She had spent the last few weeks just picking up supply shipments, hauling boxes like a goddamn courier. She tromped down the hallway of the retrofitted vault, the glass instruments in the box she was carrying clinking together. When she walked into the main lab something was weird: there was no distracted chatter and someone turned the radio off. She stalled as she entered, sneering at the lot of them like she could smell something was wrong, and set the box down on the table by the stairs. 

Then Santos came over to her, a thin veneer of sweat working its way across his forehead. “There’s uh…” he adjusted his glasses, the lights overhead glinting and obscuring his eyes for a fraction of a second, “An animal in the traps.” A few people looked up and tried to hide it.

Lorna looked through the words, seeing what Santos was too much of a coward to say out right. She sighed, closing her eyes and dragging a hand through her hair, letting it trail off her face. “I’ll deal with it.” She said, and the annoyance in her tone would have been more evident if it weren't for the fact that she was just so tired. She slinked away from the lab, grabbing her lighter and cigarettes from her jacket hanging on the wall. “Don't come out until I get back.” And Lorna grabbed the thirty-two inches of aluminum bat she left leaning against the doorway, the whole lab watching her leave up the stairs. They shared a collective grimace, acknowledging the fact that they shared offices with the human equivalent of an unstable isotope, and pretended not to hear what came next.

Cleaver was fucked. He was caught in a pair of metal jaws, teeth blunted and rusty, crushing the skin and bone of his leg. He tried to pry it open, but the trap was too strong or he was too weak with pain. He gave up, and the small amount that he did open bit back down on him, and he let out a pained noise, the shock making his stomach turn and his blood turn white. His leg was probably broken, it hurt so much he felt sick, the blood rushing through his neck drowning out everything else except a creaking sound coming from inside that stupid fucking bunker he had been trying to get into. 

Out came a woman, tall with rings in her ears and one over her eye, dark black hair cascading down her shoulders and over what looked like a bullet proof vest. She held the door open with one hand clutching a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a metal bat gripped in the other. Cleaver watched her, leaning back on his hands and curling his toes on his good foot to try and keep it together. She stared down herself at him, eyes cold and dark like pistols. He stared back, breathing hard and using everything he could muster not to act like a bitch. 

He had no idea what was coming, and for that Lorna almost felt sorry for him. 

She made sure the door was closed behind her and stuck the cigarettes in her back pocket, then she waltzed over to stand a full six foot five inches above Cleaver and said, “You fucked up big time, kid.” 

Cleaver spat back through his teeth, “Fuck you.”

She tilted her head, examining him. “Who do you belong to?”

“I’m not tellin’ you shit.” He tried as best he could to sound tough, but his voice still cracked from the pain.

Lorna stomped her foot on his bad leg, grinding her heel right into the bone, _“Who do you belong to?”_ Cleaver didn't do anything but scream a litany of obscenities, cursing at the pain and at the woman. Lorna frowned and kicked him over, the kid flailing for a moment and starting to claw himself away from her. This gave her a full view of the back of his vest, a butcher’s knife crudely burned into the thick fabric. Lorna rolled her eyes: emblazoning your gang sign on a scout so anyone with eyes knew who was trying to start something. “You're all such fucking idiots.” She said to herself. 

Cleaver had gotten about four feet away from her now, crawling on one knee and dragging his other leg with the cumbersome trap and chain. Lorna was none worried, that chain was bolted to an anchor that was buried three feet underground, he wasn't going anywhere. But to make a point, she wrapped her foot around the loose chain and yanked it back, grunting “Get back here.” Cleaver yelled in agony as he was pulled off balance, the screaming pain in his leg was shot to maximum. He started to panic. He was going to die here if he didn't do something. 

He scrambled over to his back, holding his hands up in pleading, “ _Please!_ Okay, I’ll tell you- whatever you want!” 

“Why are you here?” Lorna leaned over him, gripping the bat tighter. 

Cleaver noticed this and kept panicking. “Ah- uh- Rose sent me to check the bunker out, that's it!”

_“Why?”_ Lorna yanked the chain again 

“ _AAEeeI_ don't know! She heard people talking about a chem lab or something, I don't know!” 

She knew bringing equipment during the day was too much of a risk, even if this entrance was out of plain sight. Switching to night drop offs would be a pain in the ass. In any case, they wouldn't be able to use this entrance for at least a month, and it was the only one where she didn't have to hide her bike a mile away. Lorna took her frustration out on the kid, ramming the end of her bat into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. 

Lorna stuck the bat underneath her arm, walking over to a picnic table nearby, pulled out a cigarette, and left the pack on the table. Cleaver was splayed out on the ground, trying to get his breath back and deal with the pain that shot throbbing knives of electricity from his leg straight into his heart. Lorna walked back over to him, cigarette hanging limply from her mouth. She looked at him for a second, then raised her boot to stomp on his leg-

“ _Wait!_ Let me go! Please!” Cleaver begged, staring up at her, hoping there was a shred of stupid mercy in her body. 

Lorna put her foot back down, “Why should I?” 

“I… I’ll disappear! And whatever’s here- I won’t tell anyone!”

Lorna stilled, her face relaxing into a calm. She cupped her hands around her mouth, lighting her cigarette. She took a drag, walked over to Cleaver’s face, and squatted down to his level, bat held lazily between her legs. 

“I know you won’t, kid.” Then Lorna paused. Cleaver held his breath, maybe he wouldn't die today.

“Because once I’m done breaking your kneecaps, I’m gonna paint that rock with the inside of your skull.” She continued, pointing. 

Pure horror clawed its way up every inch of Cleaver’s body, blood turning to ice, his primal instinct screaming at him to do anything he could to get away. He scrambled backwards, hand over hand, staring his mortality in the face.

Lorna stood above him, gripping her bat in a professional way. She wound back, lifting the bat behind her head. At the height of her arc, strong arms framed waves of dark hair and teeth gritted around a cigarette. If you were to examine her frozen in that moment, you would find a particular sheen in her eyes. It was louder than gunmetal, not at all as stoic and practiced as the cleaning of a pistol. It was not manufactured as some methods of nuclear destruction were, not so refined and concentrated. It was a reflection of something completely wild. It was the lush, hot underbrush that concealed a predator, hiding the tensing muscles and coiling preparation. It was a cannibalization of kudzu vines, dismantling and disfiguring the landscape into an annihilation of what used to be. It was every horrible curve of Mother Nature, as innate as instinct and as justified as survival, and she was going to make you suffer for it. 

Lorna came down, cracking the metal over bone. She felt the break through vibrations in the metal, blood pumping in her ears not loud enough to block out the stomach churning screaming coming from below her. She wound back again, coming down with a terrifying thwack on the kid’s other leg, mangling the skin and bone. The sounds bubbling up from his lungs were no longer piercing with fear but low with agony. He was mumbling to himself between groans and sobs, begging for comfort, begging for an end to pain. He wanted nothing more. Lorna undid the metal trap, pressing down on the hinge and pulling the jaws apart. She grabbed the collar of his vest, almost like the scruff on a kitten, and dragged him over to a low, flat rock. She took a breath, intoxicated by adrenaline, and wound back again. 

The team below her in the lab went about their work, trying not to feel the impacts of metal to skull. They clicked on, flinching at every thwack regardless. 

Everybody knew Lorna was the one who started the water purifier (she never let anyone forget), but there were rumors about what she'd done since she left the Brotherhood. No one really knew, but some had their theories. The direction really depended on who you talked to: west to the Pitt, or south down to Rocky Mount, or north up to the Commonwealth. Maybe she even went out east on a boat, who knows. But it was the common assumption that she ran with raiders for that time. No one had any real evidence for that fact, it was just… Some of the things she did were hauntingly familiar. 

The almost heartbeat sound coming from above the lab sounded like it stopped, Santos looking up and bracing for one last finality. Instead, the the bunker door opened and shut up the stairs, the sound of heavy boots thudding coming down the stairwell like a water leak. It stopped at the landing and pooled there, making everyone hold their breath.

“I need a box.” Lorna said flatly from around the corner. 

The hushed group looked at each other, mentally drawing straws and trying to figure out what to do. Santos pointed an angry face at Syd, her station being closest to the stairs. She stared back, taking a shuffling step away from her work and stopped, not knowing what to do. Santos rolled his eyes and sped over there, grabbing her hand as he passed her to the table on the other side of the doorway. He started pulling the various beakers and flasks out of the box Lorna brought in and Syd followed, trying not to breathe. There was barely a sound from up on the landing; a foot shuffling, and then a drip against the metal floor. Santos looked up at this as he kept unpacking, sweat pooling on his forehead. Once the box was empty he shoved it into Syd’s hands and pushed her around in front of the stairs, wordlessly urging her to just get it over with as he stomped back to his station.

Syd swayed in her spot, her head filling itself with visions of all the horrible things that could happen when she turned the corner onto the landing. She swallowed, feeling her colleagues’ eyes on the back of her head, and took hesitant steps up the stairs. Each step wound around her heart, tightening it with fear. As she got closer to the landing she saw a bit around the corner: a dirty scuffed boot, the bloody end of a bat peeking out from behind the wall, and the small puddle it had left beneath it. 

Syd held her breath, stalling below the next two steps that would bring her to the landing. Lorna gave nothing. Together they made no sound until another drop on the metal floor brought Syd out of it. 

She slowly gained another step and--

“Just leave it there.” Lorna motioned to the spot in front of her with the end of her bat, shedding another drop onto the floor. Syd obliged, a tiny hand pushing the box into Lorna’s view from around the corner. Lorna stayed there and listened to the sound of Syd trotting back to her station. She stayed there until she heard the clinking of work beginning again. She stayed there: motionless, thoughtless, and empty. And covered in blood. She finally grabbed the box and went back outside. 

\------

The next morning, the night watch for the Butcher Gang brought around a package, about as long as a fist and forearm and just as tall and wide, labeled ‘To Rose’. They found it on a perimeter round, but nobody saw how it got there. It stank like high hell and was covered in caked dirt, but if you leaned in and listened you could hear something sloshing around in there. Rose sat at her seat, turning an empty jet canister in her hand, regarding the package. She didn't like the look of it. But so the rest of them didn't think she was a pussy, she motioned it over and had it set down on the coffee table in front of her. The gang waited, peering to catch the inside of whatever it could be. She straightened in her seat, put her hands around the interlocked folds on the top, and pulled it open.

It was Cleaver.


	2. Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, there are things that look like they'll be leading up to non-con, if thats a trigger for you please be aware and make a good decision!

Syd never liked bars. She never liked going into town either. There was always too many people, and in her experience people were confusing. People had judgements and asked questions like, “Crazy weather, huh?” and “Are you doing anything this weekend?” and they never _really_ wanted the answer to what they were asking, they wanted the answer to a question they didn't even ask and it was all just so _annoying_ and--

Syd stopped herself from getting worked up, taking a breath and swirled pinky around her watered down whiskey. Plants on the other hand, they were so simple. They only needed three things: water, sunshine, and soil. And sometimes they didn't even need soil. Then all you had to figure out was how much of each they needed. And plants told her what they needed pretty plainly. She understood them. And at some capacity they understood her; they knew she didn't want to make small talk or socialize or want to go to the harvest festival last year, or this year, or any other year, ever, Richard. 

She had been waiting here for three hours. She didn't want to risk being late, so she planned to come early. She ended up coming a little _too_ early, and now her ride was late. Two hours late. She figured the offer had been too good to be true. She decided to finish her drink, no use letting it go to waste, and walk home. Dad had given her a ride into town so she didn't have to carry anything, but now she would have to. She regretted taking all her books when it was so obvious in hindsight that she had been played. She watched the lines between the alcohol and the water intermingle and let herself feel a little sad. 

The invitation was the first thing she ever got in the mail, and the first recognition of her hard work she’d ever gotten, aside from her parents, which is nice but doesn't mean very much. Mom always told her she was pretty and smart and any man would be lucky to have her. Hmph, she laughed to herself, Sure. She tried to be as invisible as possible, setting herself to finishing off her drink and figuring out what she was going to do for the night. It was too dark to leave now. But she didn't have enough to get a room. _I’ll just tough it out I guess_ , she thought, taking a drink. Her feet were really going to hurt later.

Then someone came into the bar. They were tall, crazily tall. They had long black hair and a bulky top half, wrapped in dark leather and covered in patches. Syd couldn't really tell if they were a man or a woman from the way their sunglasses blocked most of their face. They took big, loud steps into the place, scanning over the paton’s heads, looking for someone. They did a double take and smiled, almost hungrily? 

They barked over the din of the bar, “Gunnar!” 

A mercenary talking to a couple in the corner shot around and erupted into greeting noises, “He-ey! Long time no see, short-stack!” 

“Figured you were ass up in a ditch by now so I didn't bother comin’ around!” They clasped hands and bumped shoulders, something Syd had seen other boys around town do and did not understand. They continued talking, catching up and talking about someone else. Syd just watched them from the end of the bar. She couldn't help herself. She wasn't the only one, other people were staring and whispering. For some reason this person just commanded attention, but they didn't even acknowledge it. They just kept going on like there was no one else in the room. This anomaly of a person slapped Gunnar on the back and said something that Syd couldn't quite make out. They looked up and scanned the bar again. They peered more careful this time, until their gaze settled. Right on Syd staring at them. 

Syd sputtered with her drink, swallowing the alcohol down the wrong pipe. She coughed, trying to breathe again and took another swig to set her throat right, bracing herself on the bar to focus on staying alive. She opened her eyes and took a few gulps of air, trying to soothe the burn in the back of her throat from the drink. She focused on the grain in the counter to calm her down when a pair of boots stepped up into her vision. She looked up the figure and was face to face with Them. Syd practically jumped out of her skin, sending her glass into a shallow spin on the bar. 

“Hey, woah there!” They caught the glass, a big arm crossing in front of Syd. They looked over at her trying to shrink out of her skin with a look of concern. “You alright?” They asked, switching hands on the glass and gingerly placing an arm around her shoulders. Syd flinched at this and They peeled back, taking the seat next to her.

“Did I spook, ya? Didn't mean to, but I can't really help it.” They smiled, setting their sunglasses on the bar. Syd looked up and was met with a pair of plump lips, thick eyebrows and a strong nose. And eyes that were an intense dark brown, but unmistakably feminine. 

Syd started to flush, and tried to say something. “Uh…” She cleared her throat, “Y-Yeah.” She paused. “Sorry.” 

“Don't worry about it, sweetheart. What’re you doin in the back all by yourself?” She waved to the bartender.

Syd’s stomach knotted, “Why should… Why do you need to know…?”

“‘Cause you look like you're not havin’ any fun.” Two shot glasses slid down the counter at her and she stopped them, the drinks in them spilling just a bit onto the bar. She set one of them in front of Syd, who looked at it. 

“I guess I’m not.” She replied, looking more sheepish by the second. 

“Well I can't stand by and let that happen. Here, come on.” She pushed the glass into her hand and up to her face. Syd looked at the woman unsure of what she should do. “Together, alright? One, two, three--” Syd quickly decided not to waste this woman’s money and threw the shot back. The woman slammed her glass down on the counter, hissing, and looked over at Syd, who had the shot still in her mouth because it fucking _burned_. “Oh, sweetheart, too strong for ‘ya?” She laughed. Syd covered her mouth and winced, maneuvering her throat to swallow and finally got it down. She coughed and looked up at the woman, who was throwing her head back and laughing like sunlight while patting Syd on the back. Syd couldn't help but chuckle weakly, she was infectious. The woman came back down, “Only ever had the cheap stuff, huh?”

“Yeah.” Syd smiled, her voice scratched up by the alcohol. 

“How old are you?” 

“Twenty.” Syd felt her inexperience.

“You never snuck a bottle when nobody was looking?” She asked, looking genuinely concerned. 

Syd cleared her throat, “I never had a real taste for hard stuff.”

“You get used to it.” The woman smiled into her, and her skin started to buzz. The woman waved another round and handed the glass to her.

Syd pushed it, “No, I couldn't--”

“You don't get a handle for it if you don't do it!” She pushed back.

“No, you don't have to spend--”

“Don't worry about it, this guy owes me money.” She threw her head in the direction of the bartender. She smiled, holding the glasses up, then moved one in front of her again with a raise of her eyebrows. Syd hesitated but took it anyway. “Okay, now this time, make sure to swallow,” she laughed and Syd smiled, “Tilt your head all the way back, but not too far, and take a deep breath. Ready? One… Two… Three!” Syd did as she was told, and it still burned, but didn't last as long. She grimaced and took a few breaths, still holding the glass around her face. The woman slammed hers on the bar and curled her back up like a cat, shaking her head and tossing her long hair around in waves. She looked up at Syd and the excitement was clear on her face, “There ya go! How’s it taste?”

Syd swallowed, “Like dirt.” The woman laughed and so did she, and she felt really hot, her pants suddenly feeling too tight on her skin.

“So what’re you doing here if you're so bad at drinking?” She hunched over the bar, looking into Syd.

Oh, “I was waiting for someone.” She answered. The bar had gotten louder, someone put on a tape, so she leaned in closer, “But I don't think they were coming.”

“Who would skip out on a girl like you?” The look she gave Syd was a little deeper; with hooded eyes and a smile that suggested something else. 

“A job, I was waiting for a ride to the Capital.” 

“You wouldn't happen to be Sydelle Cohen, would you?” 

Syd couldn't think. “How do you…--”

“I sent you the letter about joining E.C.L.P.S.” 

Syd just stared at the floor for a second, then she remembered the name at the bottom of the letter, “Ms.Zhao! God, thank you for coming!” She looked down at herself, “Oh, I’m so sorry--” 

Ms.Zhao laughed and put her hand on the other side of Syd’s head, pulling her closer, “Call me Lorna.”

Syd leaned back, her face hot, and nodded slowly, “Okay.” 

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Lorna readjusted on her stool, turning towards Syd, “But I’m glad I got here before you decided to go home.” 

Syd was still dazed, so all she could do was look back and make a doofy wide-eyed smile. 

“So do you want to head out?” Lorna pointed towards the door. 

“Wha-? Oh, Ye- Woah!” Syd had tried to hop off the stool but couldn't balance, her foot slipping off the footrest and sending her towards Lorna’s lap. Lorna caught her, holding her upper body like it was nothing. How does somebody get that strong?

“Do you wanna come upstairs with me, sweetheart?” Lorna said over the volume of the bar. Syd felt like she needed to lay down so she nodded, that simple action making her feel dizzy. Lorna gestured upstairs at the bartender, carrying Syd in one arm and her bag in the other. She maneuvered her upstairs and into the first room. Lorna nudged the door open with her foot, practically dancing Syd into the room with her and dropping her bag onto the floor. She set the girl on the lumpy mattress and started taking off Syd’s shoes, who muttered something that sounded like ‘Thank you’ from somebody who’d been hanging upside down for a day and a half and had just been cut down. Syd went at the button of her pants thoughtlessly and wiggled out of her jeans and socks. Seeing this, Lorna turned away from the bed to take off her jacket. She held it in her hand as she bent over to undo the laces in her boots, but when she did she caught an upside down look at Syd. Lorna stood up and saw that she was curled up in the corner of the bed, one tiny fist tucked under her chin and the other thrown over her neck, her upper body folded over her knees. Her hand fell from her neck and curled open off the edge of the bed. She was fast asleep.

Lorna stood, looking somehow wounded. She shuffled and looked around the room, gaze resting again on the girl. An indignant frown found a spot on her face. A part of her didn't want to acknowledge what was actually happening; the pieces of a plan that was evidently falling into place. It was textbook. Another part of her asked if it was really worth it. 

_Goddamnit._

\------

Syd woke up feeling sick, she opened her eyes, immediately searching for something to throw up in, and grabbed the trash bucket by the bed. 

After she was done with that, she remembered where she was, what she was doing here, and what had happened last night. Her bag was by the door and her shoes on the floor by the end of the bed. She looked down and saw Lorna’s jacket draped over her legs. She was alone. 

Syd came out of the bar, the too-big jacket draped over her shoulders and carrying her bag. The air was cool and dewy, a fog rolling through the ramshackle town during the night. She looked around and found Lorna around the corner on the road, sitting on a motorcycle with a small trailer hitched on the back. Lorna was looking straight on with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, her bare arms folded against the cold air. Syd took uncertain steps towards her, standing awkwardly on Lorna’s side, not knowing what to say.

“You can sit in the trailer if you want.” Lorna said flatly. There were some boxes strapped down into it and just enough space for a person. Syd hesitated but took a step into it, feeling it was pretty sturdy. She went to put her bag down but froze when Lorna turned around, coming face to face with her. There was a pause between them, they each gave nothing but the displacement of cold air. 

“I’m going to need that back.” Lorna said. Syd didn't move, then looked down at the jacket. 

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters arent out of order! im just mean


End file.
